


Watson's Diary

by SCFrankles, Small_Hobbit



Series: Tales from the Broom Cupboard [1]
Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 21:56:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1703969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SCFrankles/pseuds/SCFrankles, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Peaceful night. Six blissful hours of slumber. </i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Wonder how often I can get away with “accidentally” locking Holmes in Mrs. Hudson’s broom cupboard.</i></p><p> </p><p>Watson’s tales of his and Holmes’ adventures are, of course, world famous. What is less well known is that the really interesting stuff was kept back for Watson’s diary. Not that Watson was always aware it was the really interesting stuff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watson's Diary

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired (perhaps surprisingly) by _The Hound of the Baskervilles_. Specifically by these lines: 
> 
>  
> 
> _“I find that a concentrated atmosphere helps a concentration of thought. I have not pushed it to the length of getting into a box to think, but that is the logical outcome of my convictions.”_
> 
>  
> 
> And by the fact that Watson keeps a diary in HOUN. Our story also contains references from _The Three Students_.
> 
> HOUN and 3STU, and most of the characters herein belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle; the broom cupboard belongs to Mrs. Hudson.
> 
> * * *

**Monday**

I am exhausted. Woken four times last night by Holmes’ experiments. 

Going to experiment myself— with earplugs.

 

**Tuesday**

The earplugs were useless. Will try bandages around my ears instead.

 

**Wednesday**

The bandages kept noise out. Unfortunately didn’t keep Holmes out. Roused at 3 for case. 

Remember very little about it, I was so tired. I do recall that Inspector Lestrade was there. Embarrassingly, might have complained to him about Holmes somewhat. Lestrade winked and said he had a spare bed if I ever wanted to take advantage of it. 

What a delightful and friendly fellow Lestrade is. 

 

**Thursday**

Peaceful night. Six blissful hours of slumber. 

Wonder how often I can get away with “accidentally” locking Holmes in Mrs. Hudson’s broom cupboard.

 

**Friday**

Mrs Hudson complaining of lack of sleep.

Will have to find alternative cupboard.

 

**Saturday**

Holmes has got wise to the cupboard trick and has gone back to the all-night experiments. Am considering marriage, as an act of self-defence. Or perhaps I could share lodgings with that nice Inspector Lestrade...

 

**Sunday**

Lestrade extremely sympathetic to my plight and would be happy for me to stay. The bed in his spare room is quite small, but we established that it would be sufficient for the purpose.

 

**Tuesday**

Haven't been out of bed for two days. In order to catch up on sleep. 

Obviously.

 

**Thursday**

Received a telegram from Holmes saying:

COME AT ONCE.

Sent one back saying:

NOT CONVENIENT.

Received a reply saying:

COME ANYWAY.

Ignored it.

 

**Friday**

Lestrade had to return to work. Though naturally that is nothing to do with me.

Went to visit Mrs. Hudson. While trying to find my erstwhile landlady, I somehow became locked in her broom cupboard myself. Could have sworn I heard Holmes’ footsteps retreating as I called for help but must have been mistaken.

 

**Monday**

Holmes is quite correct—a concentrated atmosphere does help a concentration of thought. 

While in the cupboard I remembered where I’d put my favourite cufflinks, the French for “You are absolutely right—I had left it on the train” and the full team line-up for Blackheath in 1870. I was still pretty happy though when Mrs. Hudson returned from her weekend at her sister's and let me out again. Sucking on a damp mop for sustenance can become tiresome after a while. 

 

**Tuesday**

The carrier arrived for my belongings today. Mrs Hudson sorry to see me leave. Holmes ignoring me.

 

**Wednesday**

Disorientated when I woke up to find Holmes telling me about an urgent case. Not entirely sure he believed me when I said it was a bolster next to me in the bed. Managed to get Holmes to leave by telling him I would follow him immediately, once I was dressed. Then barricaded the front door and went back to bed. 

At day-break I engaged a locksmith and had new locks fitted on the front and back doors, and a double lock fitted on my bedroom.

 

**Thursday**

Awoke to the unmistakable sounds of Holmes doing experiments in Lestrade's sitting room. There was a huge explosion and I had to throw myself on the bolster to protect ~~him~~. It.

Ran downstairs to the sitting room where Holmes appeared unperturbed if slightly singed. When I remarked that his presence at that time in the morning was unwelcome, he raised an eyebrow (at least I think that's what he was doing, since he didn't actually have one to raise) and said that he was merely occupying himself until such time as I should rise.

I told him that I would join him once I was dressed, but he appeared not to believe me and insisted on waiting just outside the bedroom door. At one point he asked me what I was doing with the bolster, but I was unable to answer as I had my nightshirt over my head.

Finally got out of the bedroom, only slightly out of breath. Holmes was staring over my shoulder but I slammed the door, and I'd hidden the bolster under the bed anyway. Suddenly Holmes declared that he simply had to speak to Lestrade and headed for Lestrade's chamber. In utter desperation, I told Holmes he was a genius and asked him to relate all his deductions so far for the current case. 

We were halfway to the scene of the crime before he remembered that Lestrade existed.

 

**Thursday (late)**

Went back to Baker Street with Holmes. Left whilst he was in his room retrieving some newspaper cuttings, locking the doors as I went. Discovered I had used Holmes' keys once I was back at my new lodgings.

Looking forward to an undisturbed night. 

 

**Friday**

As it turned out, I didn't get much sleep in the end.

Thank heavens Holmes wasn't there to disturb us.

 

**Sunday**

Utter bliss. I'm sleeping so well now I'm away from Baker Street. 

 

**Monday**

Baker Street! Oh, dear God. I never went back to unlock Holmes.

 

**Monday (later)**

Turns out that Holmes hadn't realised that there was a problem until Sunday, since he hadn't needed to go out. He only noticed when Stanley Hopkins called round with something he wished to consult Holmes about. Hopkins had had to climb in through the window, apparently ripping his trousers in the process.

Not sure why he remained in 221B rather than just repairing them. 

 

**Tuesday**

Popped round to Baker Street to see how Holmes was doing. Hopkins was still there, and was still without any trousers! I offered to go round to his lodgings and get a fresh pair for the poor chap myself. He was greatly pleased and enthusiastic about the idea—practically pushed me out the door, he was so keen for me to go.

When I got back to Baker Street, Hopkins was nowhere to be found. So I put my head round the door of Holmes' bedroom. He'd already retired to bed but said I could leave the trousers on top of his chest of drawers.

Oddly, Holmes has started sleeping with a bolster. He said he was encouraged by my example.

 

**Wednesday**

Happened to mention the bolster to Lestrade when we were having breakfast together. Also the strange case of Hopkins' trousers.

Lestrade laughed so much he dropped toast crumbs ~~in the bed~~ on the floor.

 

**Wednesday (cont.)**

I was scrubbing marmalade off the eiderdown when Lestrade popped in to have the last of the cold beef as his midday meal. 

As he ate, he told me that he'd invited Holmes and Hopkins over to take dinner with us. I paused in the midst of my laundry, and informed him that it was a splendid notion but surely Hopkins would be getting a little tired of Holmes' company by now. Inexplicably, Lestrade had another attack of laughter, and I ended up with a mouthful of chewed boiled beef in the sink.

"You've got such a wonderful sense of humour," he said, and leaned over to give me a— Very hearty handshake.

Cannot help but feel I'm missing something important. 

 

**Thursday (late)**

Dinner yesterday was a very pleasant affair. Holmes and Hopkins didn't stay very late, saying that they had something they needed to check up on. I was almost jealous that they were doing something without me, until Lestrade pointed out that we too had something to be getting on with.

Slept late this morning. Lestrade's landlady concerned that I may not have been able to sleep well, as she was sure she had heard my bed creaking in the night. Assured her that it was fine, just a recurrence of something that had happened occasionally when I was in Afghanistan.

 

**Friday**

Decided to write up an old case for publication but realised I had left the relevant notebook at Baker Street. When I went to retrieve my notes, I found Holmes absent but I pottered back downstairs to exchange a few pleasantries with Mrs. Hudson before I returned to my lodgings.

As I passed by her broom cupboard, I was startled to hear muffled cries coming from within. Naturally I immediately pulled on the handle—the door gave a little but appeared to be jammed. There was a brief tug-of-war with the wretched thing and then I managed to wrench the door fully open. Inside the cupboard I found Holmes and Hopkins—apparently that faulty lock had struck again!

My heart went out to my two friends. They looked so rumpled: red in the face and perspiring profusely. Though it was strange. They aren't usually the kind of men to panic so easily.

And does Hopkins ever go home? Anyone would think that young man _lived_ at Baker Street.

 

**Saturday**

Not entirely certain how I came to be in this situation. 

Admittedly, Holmes’ panic on merely being trapped in a cupboard had preyed on my mind and admittedly, I did talk about it all evening. Then this morning I suggested to Lestrade that perhaps I should move back in with Holmes as he patently needed me. Lestrade became quite upset and told me if I cared so much about Holmes perhaps I _should_ move back to Baker Street. 

Lestrade’s distress rather took me by surprise. I tried to explain that though Holmes is a good friend and colleague, I do not think of him as a… landlord. In fact, I only think of Lestrade as a… landlord. And I do not think I will ever want another. Landlord. 

But Lestrade would not be pacified, and the situation ended with him throwing me out and telling me to never come back. So here I am spending the night at my club.

 

**Sunday**

Holmes turned up early this morning. 

Curiouser and curiouser. Apparently Hopkins _is_ living at Baker Street, and he and Holmes have had some silly argument over me. Hopkins says I am constantly “interfering”. Honestly, you’d think he’d _wanted_ to be trapped in a cupboard with Holmes. 

Holmes, the dear man, stood up for me and the upshot is that Hopkins has locked him out of the flat. Holmes tracked me down to my current address and has suggested we both lie low in Cambridge for a while.

 

**Monday**

Our furnished lodgings are perfectly adequate, though the landlady is somewhat of a tyrant. Nothing like dear Mrs. Hudson. Or Lestrade. (Oh, Lestrade!) 

Holmes is passing the time by doing some research at a nearby library into early English charters. I told him it sounded fascinating and worryingly, he didn’t react to the sarcasm at all. Missing Baker Street, poor chap. His scrapbooks, his chemicals. When I made a light-hearted reference to his bolster, I think he may have actually sobbed.

 

**Friday**

Even away from Baker Street Holmes remains in demand. We have been embroiled in a case. Two cases, in fact. 

Our acquaintance Mr. Soames came round the day before yesterday, needing a little problem sorted out at his college. Holmes was cheerful for the first time in days and quickly brought things to a positive conclusion the following morning. 

And then over a late breakfast Holmes confided that his research at the library was simply a cover—a librarian was suspected of stealing rare books but no-one could work out how the culprit was smuggling them out. Holmes had observed that one of the librarians had recently lost a lot of weight. The rascal had been stuffing the volumes into the seat of his now loose-fitting trousers! Dastardly. As I said to Holmes, no-one would ever think of frisking a fellow’s behind. 

Unfortunately at that point our conversation was interrupted by Holmes accidentally inhaling his kedgeree and nearly choking. 

So last night we followed the suspect in the hope of catching him in the act of passing over the stolen goods to the purchaser. We did indeed witness the transaction but unhappily they spotted us immediately afterwards and there was a chase at full pelt through the darkened streets of Cambridge. 

Holmes and myself may no longer be in the first flush of youth but we caught our men and handed them over to the local constabulary in triumph. However, when we eventually managed to find our way back to our boarding house in the pitch black, we found that dratted landlady had locked us out. 

But I noticed I had left my bedroom window unfastened, and there was a well-placed tree nearby. We climbed up and, with Holmes holding onto my waist for safety, I managed to lean over to the window, push it up completely and thereafter tumble into my room with just the minimum of injury. 

It was only after lighting a lamp that I realised two things. This wasn’t our boarding house. And there was a young lady standing opposite me armed with a parasol and a resolute expression.

Naturally I attempted to apologise and explain my mistake, but the lady replied by smacking me crisply over the head with the parasol’s handle. I turned back to the window but Holmes had abruptly disappeared so, realising this was an excellent example to follow, I ran to the aperture and threw myself out, landing in the bushes underneath. The lady was now shouting for official assistance and though I quickly attempted to remove myself from the scene, I was chased for a mile by a prompt and enthusiastic police constable.

When I had finally shaken him off, I spent another two hours tracking down the boarding house. Thankfully Holmes had managed to rouse the landlady to let him in and he was able to admit me without any further fuss.

I coolly enquired of my colleague as to why he had legged it and left me in the lurch. The blasted man had the gall to mutter something about the fair sex being my department. (And I’m not sure that a sex which can wield a parasol like that can ever truly be described as “fair”.)

 

**Saturday**

I had a rummage through Holmes’ notes in order to find a few details for my write-up of the Soames case and found a half-written letter. It appears Holmes has been writing poetry to Inspector Hopkins. 

He rhymed “Stanley” with “manly” three times, and there was an awful lot about Hopkins’ eyes and shoulders. Charming, of course, though I cannot help but wonder if Holmes is overstepping a professional boundary here. 

 

**Sunday**

~~Inspector Lestrade~~  
~~You work far too hard.~~  
~~Put your gun in its holster~~  
~~And come and be my bolster.~~

 

**Monday**

Holmes received a telegram from Hopkins this morning asking for assistance in an unsolved murder. Holmes solved the case in ten minutes, and then sent a reply telling Hopkins he was an utter idiot who shouldn’t be on the police force. 

Thank heavens. They’re obviously friends again.

 

**Tuesday**

So glad to be back in London. Though I have not dared to get in contact with Lestrade yet. 

Holmes has said I can sleep on the sofa at 221B until I have a more permanent solution as to where I’m going to reside. Mrs. Hudson was surprised to see me again and I explained that I was moving in with Holmes and Hopkins. 

Mrs. Hudson then went on at some length about “modern ‘90s arrangements” and “it wasn’t like this when I was a girl” and “I hope you’re all going to be discreet. It’s a good job I’m a broadminded woman.” I nodded rather a lot but have to admit I lost track of things quite early on. 

Ladies, bless ‘em—who can understand what goes on in their dear little heads?

 

**Wednesday**

I have no idea why Holmes enjoys resting on that sofa. It is one of the most uncomfortable pieces of furniture I have ever lain down on. I simply couldn’t drop off to sleep. 

I had just managed to enter a light doze when I was woken yet again, by Hopkins creeping down from my old bedroom and across the sitting room. It seems he could not sleep either, so I invited him to sit with me while I regaled him with details of old cases until daybreak. 

He was absolutely fascinated. Paid attention with such a fixed, unwavering stare.

 

**Thursday**

Holmes and Hopkins have asked me to leave again. 

Was rather hurt and had decided to go to my club but then Lestrade came round to talk to Holmes. He pretended to ignore me and at first I thought all hope was lost. But then I realised he was gazing mournfully at me whenever he thought I wasn’t paying attention. 

This made me brave and just as he was leaving I felt I had to make one last try to get him to allow me to be his tenant once more. I followed him down to the hallway, pulled him into the broom cupboard, slammed the door, and jammed it shut with the mop. Then I told him I wouldn’t let him out until he had forgiven me. 

I am happy to say that after three hours in the cupboard he had forgiven me. 

Unfortunately, Mrs. Hudson still hasn’t.

 

**Friday**

Very pleased to be back home with Lestrade. 

It is a full house at the moment as we also have Holmes and Hopkins staying with us. This is my fault. When Lestrade and I finally exited the cupboard, Mrs. Hudson declared that a landlady’s broom cupboard should be inviolate and she was fed up with gentlemen playing hide and seek in it. Then she turfed us all out. 

Holmes says he’s confident that forgiveness will be forthcoming in the near future. I do hope so—Lestrade’s home is too small for four occupants. Lestrade did say that it would be perfectly respectable for him and myself to share one room, and for Holmes and Hopkins to share the other as there were no other places to sleep. But I told him that Holmes would be shocked at the thought of having to share a bed. Lestrade patted me on the arm and murmured what sounded like “Oh, bless you.” I know he appreciates me being a thoughtful friend to Holmes. 

Therefore, for the time being Holmes is sleeping on the sofa and poor Hopkins is using one of the armchairs. But Lestrade and myself have arranged to spend a few days in Southsea next week, so both of the bedrooms will be free then and Holmes and Hopkins will be able to get a proper night’s sleep for once. I think Holmes will certainly appreciate this. I overheard him having a very restless time on the sofa last night. Though when I asked him about it he told me not to worry—things were perfect. 

Apparently it was just a recurrence of something that used to happen occasionally when he was at university.


End file.
